Kate K

I Have Bananas for Soccer Cleats

By Kate K.

I have bananas for soccer cleats

And a citrus soccer ball.

My cousin wears watermelons

And my sister scores in oranges.

My friends play in cherries,

Limes and berries,

And the ball that they kick is an inflated blueberry.

There are people I know

who own pineapples,

Peaches,

Even pears!

Yes!

Those are the shoes

Us soccer players wear!

I have bananas for soccer cleats

And a citrus soccer ball,

Flavored with the sweetness of the sport,

And the refreshing aura of soccer.

Nighttime Nightmare

By Kate K.

I heard the disruptive slalom up the stairs and knew that someone had escaped his crate. I sighed.

“Randall, how’d you get out of the crate? I watched your Big Buddy close it super extra tight for a super extra pudgy boy.” I didn’t know what I was expecting for an answer; dogs don’t speak English. Exhausted, I trotted down toward the kitchen to get a sip of water before taking him back up to my room to spend the rest of the night on my carpet (He can’t go back in the crate after waking up because then he is “entitled to play.”) But all of the sudden, the water choked me as Randall started barking at what is usually absolutely nothing. To prevent certain death, I spit the liquid out and expected Randall to lick it up as he does with anything (food, drink, or even objects that should not be eaten). But instead, he stayed focused on the door. My eyes rolled around in their sockets. In a cheery dog voice, I alerted Randall that there was water on the ground for him, but he didn’t care. The figment of his imagination was more important to him than even his favorite thing—food and drink. I hugged my puppy.

“Randall, you’re going to wake up the whole neighborhood. Come on, let’s go to my room.” Randall refused to budge. “Right now, Randall. There’s a toy up there!”

I scanned the darkness to see if anything was there, and was certain I saw a pair of eyes on the porch. “Randall…” I nervously warned, “I’m gonna turn on the lights, and if there’s something out there, we’ll call 9-1-1.” I was to the point of tears, shaking, holding my dear dog for my life. “3...2...1…”

The lights shot on, and I saw a shadow flash down the stairs and disappear into inexistence. It was completely out of sight.

“Randall, put 9-1-1 on speed dial,” I chanted while grabbing the sharpest knife in the kitchen and a softball bat that my sister luckily forgot to put away, “We’re going out.”

My dog and I tiptoed out of the house, the porch light still on. I’d grabbed a flashlight so we could see anywhere. As we crept down the stairs, I whispered a countdown to Randall, who was eager to run around the yard and play. “One!” We turned the corner and I swung the bat, denting the wall where no one was standing. There was no way that they could have gotten into the house given that all the doors and windows were locked. The yard was empty. Had the criminal somehow gotten our garage code and is stuck in the garage? There was only one way to find out.

I nervously tapped in the code, keeping Randall as close and safe to me as possible. Checking my back to see if I was being followed, I hit enter and realized that he or she couldn’t be in there; I would have heard the garage door opening. Still, I checked the garage and had Randall look for any hiding “belly rubbers.” Of course, no one was there.

We checked in the front yard, closing the garage door behind us. No one. “If there was a person, they left. They couldn’t have gotten in the house, and they aren’t in the yard. C-c’mon, let’s go.” Randall, however, kept sniffing toward the house.

“Randall, nothing’s in there!” I screamed, mostly reassuring myself that

only my family dwelled in the house. We sprinted to the porch when Randall started barking at the door. I lost it. Tears streamed down my face into a pool of fear, worry, and grief.

“What if he or she has already killed everyone and are in there waiting to kill us? What would I do? I don’t want anyone to die, Randall!” I had to be brave, though. Taking a deep breath and hovering my finger right over dial on the police department’s contact, I creaked open the door.

“No one’s in here. The doors were locked. No one’s in here—” I stopped. The door was left open when Randall and I had walked out, and we never checked the porch. That’s how the criminal intruded. I knew only one thing to do.

“GET OUT!” I screamed. “THIS IS MY HOUSE, MY FAMILY, MY DOG. LEAVE!”

I saw the glowing eyes heading downstairs. I followed them with confidence and almost broke the switch turning on the lights. But there was nobody. Only a dark black creature fluttered into the basement.

“A bat. It was a bat. Well, I guess I should get my dad…”